


Emblemstuck: Fates

by Archbass



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe — Reinterpretation of Canon, Audience Participation, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Choose Your Own Adventure, Crack Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Multi, Multiple Pairings, No Fourth Wall, Other, Reader-Interactive, References to Real World Art Pieces and Fiction, Video Game Mechanics, Warnings May Change, non-canon relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archbass/pseuds/Archbass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Corrin, and today is the day that you are to leave Nohr on a mission. Yet, you get the nagging feeling that your road will meet more than just the single, thick branch ahead of you. For every branch, after all, there are small leaves shaking in the wind. How will you proceed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1: Part 1: Nohr

Tonight is … not quite the night of your birthday. No, that’s because you’re currently reeling from a NIGHTMARE. You dreamt that you were being torn asunder by two separate families -- two houses, both alike in dignity, yadda yadda, between HOSHIDO and NOHR where we lay our scene yadda yadda, ancient grudges, etc. There’s a whole world of backstory that you slept through before.

It’s the kind of stuff you half paid attention to when being lectured to by everyone from the help to your SIBLINGS. But enough about them for now: your dream is precisely about how your SIBLINGS were not actually your siblings. That’s odd, indeed, especially when you wake up once again, in your room.

But who are you? What exactly are you? You are a PRINCE or PRINCESS, perhaps.

 

>CHOOSE: Princess

 

Okay, that’s what you are. Whether you’re one of the many genders inbetween the binary doesn’t quite matter because guess what? Royal titles, especially of the NOHRIAN PERSUASION, are cissexist as all hell, so whether you actually identify with a completely different pronoun doesn’t quite matter—you're stuck in a binding contract that you won't be able to get out of at all by virtue of high birth. Oh well, that’s one of the many LITTLE THINGS your life in Nohr has had in store for you for awhile. We’ll get to that.

But who exactly are you? You’re royalty, but what’s your name? What is the thing they will be saying when you celebrate your birthday?

 

>ENTER NAME: Baroness Earpoint Morganstoffer the Seven-thousanth

 

No. Absolutely not. You are neither a baroness nor do you have six-thousand-nine-hundred-ninety-nine ancestors. You don’t even know who your ancestors are other than an old guy with a wicked beard on the throne.

 

>ENTER NAME: Scaly McToots

 

Okay now you're just being cheeky. Enter an actual name, please.

 

>ENTER NAME: Corrin

 

There. It’s a nice and regal name. It even means crown. Kind of. We’d go with Kamui, but we’re pretty sure you don't speak Ainu.

Your name is CORRIN. This is a huge day, the day that your elder brother subjects you to another TEST OF STRIFE, another sparring match in which he’ll inevitably test your skill with a blade. You have no idea what that has to do with statecraft, but you go along with it because your elder brother happens to be next in line for the NOHRIAN THRONE. Otherwise, you have no idea because your home is a TOWER IN THE NORTHERN FORTRESS, the Ars Borealis, if you will, though much like not knowing Ainu you're pretty sure Nohrians don't speak Perfect Fucking Latin either.

Your room, though, is your sanctuary—aside from the vigilance of a CRACK TEAM of three maids, one butler, and a grizzled old guy, you have had this place to your own long enough to display your INTERESTS. You are a VORACIOUS READER, which is why you have a bookshelf that climbs all the way to the ceiling. This surprises every armchair architect you have ever met (who numbers only one) because your ceiling kind of vaults in the middle. Many of these books are collections of plays collected throughout the world, which is why your walls are also adorned with an assortment of COLORFUL POSTERS of various theatre productions. One of your walls, though, is a progression of FAMILY PORTRAITS, beginning from your earliest memory, spanning intervals of roughly two or three years. Notably absent in all of these are your parents.

 

>CORRIN: Examine Family Portraits

 

How dignified. The arrangement of your family members follows the same pattern each time—granted, in the earliest portrait it's only yourself, and your elder sister CAMILLA and your eldest brother XANDER. Even when he was only a teenager, Xander is of course DASHING AS FUCK, and in the same portrait, Camilla had yet to hit the her inexplicable growth spurt. Your younger brother, LEO, who helped you exponentially expand your library years ago, joins the picture about three portraits in. Your overactive younger sister ELISE joins you in the fourth portrait. As they go on, each one becomes more and more formal. Except Elise, in all her exuberance, insisted on BEARHUGGING you in those portraits. You distinctly remember her tiny frame nearly crushing your ribcage on multiple occasions.

 

>CORRIN: Examine PIPPIN poster

 

That was a fun time, when the royal siblings all pooled together some resources to bring a production of this show to the Northern Fortress for you—though you had the sneaking suspicion that the guy they got to play the lead was one of Leo’s men. Just a hunch. It was one of the few times you heard Xander really laugh out loud. It was about a prince trying to fill in his role as successor...and just not having it. Now that you think on it, you wonder if he was laughing because he was mocking the fictional Pippin, or if he trying to escape from his role as heir to the Nohrian throne.

Of course it was the former! Xander is the kind of guy who is cooler than a frozen cucumber shoved into the snow for days when he's under pressure.

 

>CORRIN: Get some light reading done.

 

Now let's see what you can get done before anyone comes to fetch you…

Ah! Now here’s an interesting number you haven't picked up in awhile: it's a little book by some guy from Hoshido named HIDEAKI ANNO. It's got a title that never really made sense: “Wevwangelion?” That's what Leo said the symbols on the cover meant literally, and that they should be taken over the “Evangelion” written clear-as-crystal underneath it. When you last left off, you were in the middle of reading a monologue about some kind of EXISTENTIAL DREAD, or was it the passage where the main protagonist masturbates to completion over his friend's comatose body? You kind of lost track, since those chapters are written in some kind of odd parallel structure; the last time you saw GIANT ROBOTS in it was maybe halfway through the book ago.

It's a little bit better than the dread you feel when you hear a hard knock on the door, and a stern voice:

“My lady? Are you awake?”

Oh, it's just GUNTER. That old man who works with the help? That's Gunter. The guy has a love affair with his armor, given that you've never seen him out of it. Then again, that's because he's the most competent bodyguard among your retainers, since his age comes with experience. That, and he throws one hell of a pitch. Past bruises in the palms of your hands attest to this.

 

>CORRIN: Answer the door.

 

You open the door to see that Gunter is not alone. On his left is JAKOB, the best butler ever—granted, you only know one butler, and he's the one—carrying a tray of tea and crackers. On his right is FELICIA, the best maid ever, for entirely different reasons, none of which have to do with the fact that you've made and won bets with Leo about how badly she would trip over herself in a straight hallway. Behind Gunter is FLORA. She and Felicia are sisters, but the resemblance sort of stops everywhere since she has BLUE HAIR, and Felicia’s red—also, Flora is able to keep track of her own two feet.

They file in. It's a very practiced motion—though you are very sure they were expecting you to be asleep, as you notice that Flora and Felicia exchange a surprised look.

“You're up surprisingly early,” Gunter says. He pays no attention to Jakob putting away your copy of _Wevwangelion_. “Have you been preparing for Prince Xander’s test? By studying those arms manuals I gave you, of course?”

 

>CORRIN: Panic

 

You slowly turn towards the window, to stall for time. It's just unfortunate that the window faces THE VERY ARENA YOU’LL BE FACING XANDER. It's on a separate tower, near its battlements…you think you see a vague shape standing there, facing the direction of your tower.

 

>CORRIN: Ohai, Xander

 

Oh no. Ohhhh no…

That's Xander alright, royal-purple cape billowing in the wind, his fabulous hair rustling underneath his circlet, his armor nice and polished, his lion-crested shield baring its engraved fangs like it really needs some kind of dental appointment. He's got his sheathed blade resting against the brick. He's staring up in the direction of your tower. You know? At this angle he looks like he might actually kill you for dawdling—not that he will, but while pressure is something he’s cool under, little annoyances are not. He even brought his horse, that knightly cheater! He doesn't normally bring his horse to sparring matches.

 

>CORRIN: Tell the others about the dream in order to get out of the sparring match.

 

“I uh, had a bad dream,” you say, scratching the back of your head nervously. “And you were there…” You point to Gunter. “And you…” You point to Jakob.

“Was I?” Felicia asks.

“I think? It was kind of a blur. You know how dreams are. Dreamy.”

“How very dignified,” Flora mutters.

“Would you elaborate more?” Jakob asks. He samples his own tea, and sighs, completely and so smugly satisfied with himself.

“Okay, so get this,” you say. “Xander was fighting a guy with way too much hair, while I was on the other side of the river from him.” As you continue, the pace of your words picks up, exponentially the more you rave. “And on my side of the river the Hoshidans all bottlenecked a bridge ... withnoonereallyadvancingorretreatingbutIwaswiththeseotherthreepeoplewhoallcalledmetheirsisterincludinganotherguywithwaytoomuchhairkindofremindedmeofLeootherwise—”

"I knew serving you coffee before bed was a bad idea," you hear Felicia lament under her breath.

“It's time to focus on the task at hand,” Gunter interrupts you. “Gather your practice swords and follow us.”

Ah. Well, that was worth a try. Jakob seems a little more suspicious still, as does Felicia—maybe for different reasons, though they too exchange a look that makes a doubt creep into the back of your mind.

 

>CORRIN: Be dragged out there kicking and screaming

 

Come now, you're not going to actually do that, are you? Besides, with your bare feet you actually kicked Gunter’s armor once, and it hurt like hell.

Seriously, in retrospect whoever thought having no foot protection other than a little velvet wrap around your arches should be stabbed, by you personally. Unless it was Jakob or Felicia.

 

>CORRIN: Wear the sword, be the Princess

 

You are a princess already, but you'll bite. It's better to swallow this bitter pill than to delay it any further.

You head out to the roof of the tower where you normally spar with Xander—it's a makeshift training yard, since the Northern Fortress, built during the Great Mountain Stock Exchange Crash three hundred years ago, didn't exactly have the budget for a training yard on the ground floor. Grass, even ASTROTURF that's common in places like Windham, is expensive in Nohr, after all.

 

>CORRIN: Be Xander

 

Oh Corrin.

That isn't possible. You are given ample time to ponder why this isn't possible on your way to face him. See, as CROWN PRINCE OF NOHR, Xander has a reputation to uphold. He's kind of a badass, you see, as a result of his training that he has spent the better part of a decade accomplishing. He is the best horse rider you have ever known, the best swordsman you have ever known, and on top of everything, he is your foe today. When you meet his stern, but soft face you see him lighten up a little.

“Well, well, little princess,” he says. “You are up and on time for once.”

“Wha? You looked like I was late.”

“That's just the lighting.”

“Frikkin Nohr.”

“Watch your tongue, Little Princess.”

“Well, I mean, I love it to death, but sometimes it's just a little hard where day ends and night begins, you know?”

“Keep your eyes up, Little Princess. Your foe is in front of you, not in the clouds…”

Xander mounts atop his horse, and sets aside the scabbarded SIEGFRIED, the sword that is known for shooting lasers of what you're pretty sure is PURE, UNADULTERATED EVIL. For a knight in shining armor, Xander sure does employ that sword a lot, enough that seeing it sheathed is a sign of relief for you. He instead pulls out a PRACTICE SWORD, much like the one you're using.

“It's time I test you. The outcome of this sparring match will determine whether or not father lets you out of the fortress at all.” You make note of the cautious bitterness envenoming his voice, but pretend not to notice. It's another NOHRIAN THING that you've grown used to from your siblings, that despite being your closest non-retainer companions, they were awfully tight-lipped about your father.

“Isn't riding a horse cheating?” You ask.

“In a real war, you will fight asymmetrically on a near-constant basis,” he says, as he starts warming up. He's testing the weight of the new practice blade—he's a little forceful, you notice; Siegfried, legendary blade of pure unadulterated evil that it seems to be, is more likely heavier than the dinky little boffer weapon in his hand right now. “There will be times when you fight a foe on foot from a horse, others where you will fight a magic user from afar with only a knife…”

“And others where you're forced to use a weapon too light for you?” you ask. He cracks a smirk.

“You've been reading too many comedies, little princess. I hope you'll be taking this seriously.”

“Oh, I'm scared…” Your legs _are_ shaking. “Scared out of my wits, but you'll go easy on me, right?”

Xander frowns.

“I do expect you to swing at me like you're trying to kill me,” he says.

 

>CORRIN: STRIFE!

 

What is this? Some kind of RPG? No, girl, you're in an adventure. There's a difference here! ... Or is this a strategy game? Who knows, fourteen of these things and the definition has been muddled, twisted, and turned about more often than a Phoenix Wright title. Whoa! Wait! No time to ponder the intricacies of naming videogame genres. Xander is still there!

 

>CORRIN: Swing at Xander like you're trying to kill him

 

You test the weight of your practice blade. You notice that it's … Well, you remember whiffle bats that you would use as a child to play ball with Jakob and Felicia and that guy with the poofy haircut you can't really remember? Well, it's about that light. Then again, you also remember it only being heavier when you had first started sparring with Xander.

You face down Xander and ready yourself. He wheels his steed so that he’s facing you.

You catch out of the corner of your eye the shadow of something winged and dark-scaled flying in the distant skies. It's enough of a distraction for Xander to begin his charge.

 

>CORRIN: Use your cape, wave it like like a matador, to let him charge over the edge of the yard and plummet

 

Why do we even let you try to make such a decision when it will only lead to fratricide? Besides, Xander’s steed isn't that stupid (despite how many times you've seen it drink moat water when left to its own devices), nor is it a bull, nor is your cape red.

You do use your cape to catch Xander’s sword as he makes his first swing. It's not quite the parry he taught you to do, but it's enough to get away unscathed.

 

>CORRIN: Now go in for the kill

 

For fucks sake, you're not trying to kill anyone. You do an ACROBATIC FUCKIN' PIROUETTE and manage to get in a good hit against Xander. He's surprised enough to retreat, riding around again to charge at you again.

 

>CORRIN: you know acrobatics???

 

Yeah, actually. All your watching of the stage has given you a little bit of insight into how you can dodge and weave and juke to survive. Striking back is another matter entirely—your acrobatics, flashy as they are, aren't always successful in a proper fight.

 

>XANDER: Turn up the heat

 

You really wish that the Northern Fortress had a thermostat. Wait, no—you can't be Xander yet! But yes, Xander is turning up the heat. His next charge is not checked this time, and he gets you good, right inbetween the ribs, nearly knocking the wind out of you. You're sent sailing until you hit the parapet.

You get up, only to hear Xander sigh.

“I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't get up,” he says. “But alas, it seems that this test may require me to bend the rules a little bit…”

He raises his free hand.

 

>CORRIN: Witness a dragon vein in action

 

A surge of blue light erupts from underneath his very bored-looking steed. A ball of the same light snakes about the air until it lands on the center of the arena. It rests there, lighting up a spot on the ground that, when you reach it, feels like it's constantly dunking you in refreshing water.

“Father requested this test be done without much in the way of help,” Xander says. “But if the Blood of First Dragons is in you as it is with the rest of the family, whether I help you should be entirely irrelevant. Now come at me!”

 

>CORRIN: Finish this.

 

You're practically skipping to Xander as you bound and bounce into a leaping, downward slash. Your surprise pleasantly greets you, as does Xander when you notice that he's on his back. You knocked him from his saddle! That's the first time you've managed to accomplish that before.

Then again, in your falling arc, you fail to notice that you came down against his horse. His horse headbutts you, sending you flying.

 

>CORRIN: Stick the landing! Collect Exp!

 

You stick the landing though. You also GAIN YOUR FIRST LEVEL

You gain a point of HP, STRENGTH, MAGIC, DEFENSE, and RESISTANCE. Thus begins your climb to awesomeness, you think, though you don't have enough time yet to really contemplate what those numbers yet—let alone the ones that didn't level up.

You hear one pair of hands applauding you.

 

>CORRIN: Ohai, Leo

 

Leo, you notice, has been standing there the entire time. He's something of a mini-Xander, only coming up to Xander’s chest, and only barely up to your chin. He has his overly-high collar on backwards; you elect to pretend not to notice.

“What a show that was,” Leo says. “And brother is right about asymmetric battles.” He practically struts to the both of you. He helps Xander up; the elder prince brushes himself off, and begins tending to his horse.

“When did you get here, Leo?” You ask him. He scoffs.

“I've only been here the entire time cheering you on. How do you fail to notice?”

You can hear the sounds of crickets chirping in the back of your mind as you try to recall any cheering Leo was doing. He might have been in the negative decibels, or it might have been the wind howling. You shrug.

“Ah, well it would seem that beyond your narrow victory, you have improved in your strange technique if I would say so myself. A little more acrobatics, and you may not need the use of trampolines to practice your sword technique before. That means I've won my bet with Elise, that indeed with the Blood of First Dragons you're able to surpass certain human limitations—”

“Your collar is backwards.” You deadpan. Leo coldly looks down, and in an instant turns around to scurry away. Xander laughs. You can hear another pair of footsteps approaching the training yard, one a little faster and more skippy than the others.

“It seems Leo wasn't the only unexpected spectator,” Xander says. “By the way, little princess, watch your flank.”

 

>CORRIN: wha?

 

You feel something roughly eighty or ninety pounds and about the height of your waist slam right into you, arms in poofy black sleeves squeezing the breath out of you. You're pretty sure you heard a lovingly shrill cry of “BIIIIG SIIIIIISTER” approaching you mere seconds before impact too.

 

>CORRIN: Ohai, Elise.

 

You pat your blonde-haired little sister on her head, if only to try to get her to release you. Shouldn't she know she's thirteen right now, instead of the ten-year-old she's acting like? That would be a NOHRIAN THING if you weren't so sure Felicia of Flora didn't do the same thing when they were Elise’s age. Or yourself for that matter. Elise is just weird like that, you figure.

“Can't breathe,” you rasp. She lets go, a huge smile on her face.

“Does this mean Corrin gets to come with us to Windham finally? Does it?”

Xander nods. And out bursts another excited squeal from Elise. When you finally catch your breath, you turn to your right to meet the throaty laugh you just heard earlier.

 

>CORRIN: Ohai, Camilla

 

While Leo helped you fill out your shelves, Camilla helped dote nearly everything else about you, and you're not exactly sure why—Camilla herself isn't particularly forthcoming. You've learned not to question too much about her, really: from the fact that she parades in armor that somehow stays on her (her growth spurt was so generous that Nohrian armorers had no idea how to deal with the older princess’s lascivious tastes), to the fact that she treats her wyvern mount like some kind of oversized kitten. Right now, she seems to be the content observer, receiving your little awkward wave.

You can't help but feel just a little awkward at the fact that you're surrounded by your entire family. And then, there's that sinking feeling about your dream.

No, that wasn't just an excuse to try and get out of the fight with Xander.

 

>CORRIN: Okay, seriously, how did the dream really pan out?

 

Most of what you said to Gunter was true. Most of it being the key word here. You knew deep down that the people on the Hoshidan side calling you “sister” was a family very similar to your own:

An ELDER BROTHER WITH WAY TOO MUCH HAIR wielded a sword of lightning, and in such a way that made you worry for Xander’s safety in their fight—dream or not, it was a fearsome dance of blades. They were, to your relief, on roughly equal ground, Xander being better at taking blows and the other being better at evading blows.

An ELDER SISTER ON A PEGASUS who was more set on defending you than participating in the battle. She left your side early on to try and assist the elder brother — you recall the name “Ryoma.” Her dutifulness vaguely reminded you of Camilla...if Camilla was the exact opposite of a tease.

A YOUNGER BROTHER WITH ALSO WAY TOO MUCH HAIR wielded a bow of wind—he seemed to have a bragging streak, way more than Leo’s, but with it a more cocky streak. He seemed to think he was better than you.

A DEMURE YOUNGER SISTER who looked to be some kind of Hoshidan shrine maiden. You remembering the tingling sensation of her healing magic—and how she would jump at … Every shadow anyway.

You find yourself dismissing the dream as a flight of fancy the more you think about it—and the more you see your siblings with your waking eyes. There's no way some rival house from across the world could compete with your family…

Well, maybe Elise would be in trouble, but for the most part Xander and Camilla do the heavy lifting for the glory of Nohr anyhow.

Speaking of your siblings, Leo has returned. The five of you have a little talk on the way back to your quarters, to make preparations for your trip to Windham.

“Wait, why can't Camilla just fly me there?” You ask.

“Aw, darling,” Camilla says. “You don't want to chafe—my saddle is meant for only one.”

“But—”

Camilla’s look turns grim for a moment.

“Chafing on a Wyvern is the most painful sensation you will feel in your lifetime.”

“Worse than the time Xander somehow managed to get bitten by his own horse?”

Camilla nods.

“Or that time Leo tried to teach me how to use tomes?”

Camilla nods even more.

“Or the Kitten Incident?”

Camilla’s nodding has reached apex nodding. She could not not any more emphatically if she were trying to send her own head into orbit with how strong she is trying to confirm to you that chafing against wyvern scales is the most painful thing imaginable.

You would have pointed out to Camilla that she could have resolved that problem by wearing pants, as literally every other wyvern rider you've ever seen in Nohr does, but a sharp ‘ahem’ from Gunter draws your attention.

 

>CORRIN: Listen to the old man lecture at you.

 

“My lady,” Gunter says. “We have prepared most of everything you will need for your ride to Windham, but we have but one dilemma: we are short-staffed.”

“You're kidding right?” You ask.

“I'm afraid not. You'll only be able to bring Jacob or Felicia along with you to Windham.”

As you're preparing the last of your things, you find yourself just a little indecisive… Both are excellent company, and both are diligent retainers. Jakob just makes better tea, and Felicia is the better guide...somehow. It's almost as if Felicia’s clumsiness somehow wrapped around from value 0 to value 255 to translate into a perfect sense of navigation. You think, anyway.

Either way. The choice is yours…

  
To be continued…after input from readers like you.

 


	2. Act 1: Part 2: The Gift of Ganglari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You set out to Windham. You say your goodbyes to the staff at the Northern Fortress and set out. Your siblings are eerily silent about the nature of your father. What could the king of Nohr have in store for you?

>CORRIN: Let’s take Felicia

 

You’re really sure about that? Alright, alright. You find yourself lamenting some part of this decision. That is, until Felicia beams.

Seriously, have you ever tried to disarm a smile like that? It’s like cutting wires on bombs -- at least, that’s how you’ve read about it in books. The last time you’ve seen it in books, you were pretty sure you were trying to help Jakob douse a kitchen fire. Not that he wanted you in the kitchen in the first place. Nor did Flora for that matter.

The point is: Felicia’s smile is relentlessly happy and bright enough for you to forget your worries that you’ll be forgetting some stray piece of luggage or a trinket of some kind.

 

>CORRIN: Examine Inventory

 

Good thing you just did. You have:

-A Vulnerary. It’s a whole bunch of assorted medicinal dusts and herbs. As far as you can tell, they are an ointment that you apply to wounds to help stave off infection. Collectively they taste like cherry with a mint aftertaste. You have three uses of this one.

-A Bronze Sword. It’s a little clumsy, but you can wield it well enough. It’s not very sharp either, you find.

-A Copy of Wevwangelion, annotated by Leo

Currently, your BRONZE SWORD is assigned to something called a STRIFE SPECIBUS. You cannot quite access this yet for some reason. When you try, you find an error message:

>ERROR: SPECIBUS DISCONNECTED FROM INTSYS

 

>CORRIN: Examine Stats

 

Okay. Alright. Stats Screen. You are introduced to a bunch of NUMBERS. The problem is that in this TEXTUAL ENVIRONMENT and not a METATEXUAL ENVIRONMENT  you are unaware as to how to display them in any way you can comprehend them easily. You find yourself staring at a stat screen that returns an error message next to your portrait. You’ll have to investigate this problem later. The error message?

 

>ERROR: INTSYS-DISESTABLISHED CONTACT TECH SUPPORT AT THE FOLLOWING EXTENSION

 

You have no idea what the extension for Tech Support is, because it’s nothing but green and blue GOBBLEDYGOOK, scrambled numbers and letters as a result of some kind of faulty BIOS. At least you know your inventory works.

 

>CORRIN: Get some more reading material

 

You search your shelves. You don’t have a lot of time before GUNTER clears his throat insistently. You’re lucky that your siblings are patient people _and_ that Jakob and Felicia are both helping with the majority of your packing. You have to wonder if they have any time to themselves.

The reading material you find, though, is quite pleasing: your copy of _The Room_ , and your copy of _Independence Day_.

 

>CORRIN: Examine Copy of _The Room_

 

You’re not entirely sure who wrote this book. You know his name, but there is absolutely nothing about his indentity that doesn't baffle you. The author’s note by one “Tomhas [sic] Weisseu” mentions that he came from somewhere in Windham in the sewers and published this book as an examination of human relationships.

Except you get the feeling that the books four or five chapters devoted to how the author’s friend had some kind of … relationship with his girlfriend … is less “examination” as much as it is fanciful self-insertion. Besides, the whole thing is filled with so many misspellings and just … weird … syntax that you’re pretty sure it was intended to be a comedy. You flip it open, and read a little bit just for old times sake.

 

 

> _Okay, okay, so Mark and I were out on tha roof one day. I was a little angry that mi Leesa was lyin an sayin lies about how I heet her or other stuff that I heet her but I did nat. But I came out onto tha roof just too vent, but didn’t notice Mark by the time I threw my empty water bottle at him._
> 
> _“Oh, hai, Mark,” I said._
> 
>  

...On second thought, let’s save this book for later. Maybe father could use a laugh, because from what you’ve heard about him, King Garon is a PRETTY HUMORLESS FELLOW. Xander doesn’t often answer direct questions about him without just a hint of frustration, Camilla always changes the subject, and Elise seems to have no clue. Leo is a bit more direct, but he’s way more terse about it. He does speak highly of his beard, though, so Garon can’t be all that bad.

 

>CORRIN: Thumb through _Independance Day_ to take your mind off of King Garon

 

Oh boy! This one is a fun one, too, but for wholly different reasons. You don’t have as much time to look through it, but you’ll be sure to read this one on the road too if you’ve got the time. It’s massive novel about a fictional country called The United States of America fending off an invasion by Space-Born-Locust-Beings. It includes everything from an awkward nerd protagonist, another protagonist who’s a cocky fighter jockey, weird technological devices that are named after apples, to a leader who rides into battle in a flying machine…

Though why that last part matters to you confuses you for a moment. After all, is that not what kings do? Xander certainly does it. You pack the book away, and join Gunter and Felicia at the gatehouse.

 

>CORRIN: Say Goodbye to everyone.

 

There is only one other person you have to say goodbye to: Lilith!

When you pass by the stables, she is in fact there to see you off. When you meet her you find it just a little awkward. Lilith had arrived at the doorstep to the Northern Fortress with nothing but the clothes on her back and a few other things—you distinctly remember her throwing herself at Gunter’s feet, begging to be of service to you. Not to Gunter, but to you.

Of course, even understaffed as the Northern Fortress tended to be, you found that most of the servants found as many excuses as they could manage to make sure Lillith worked in places like the stables—places where she wouldn't be seen. On some level you could see why; not so much understand, but see:

Lillith seems like an ordinary person except for a few oddities: yellow eyes, for one. But then again, most Nohrians have some kind of oddity about them; Camilla’s hair is lavender, after all. For two, Lillith has this odd birthmark on her forehead—a red mark, ending just between her eyes. It never really unnerved you, personally (it helps that people do whisper about your pointed ears or that you seem to devour meat particularly well), but you can see why people would regard her as strange.

She rocks a little. She's nervous. It might be because Camilla is actually looking your direction with some kind of knowing smirk. You couldn't blame Lilith for that even if you tried.

“I… I wish you a safe trip, Corrin,” she says. She's starting to blush. Her hands clasp with what were twirling fingers. “My only regret is that I couldn't come with you.”

Camilla is approaching.

 

>CORRIN: Give the most loving, heartfelt goodbye speech you can possibly give to Lilith.

 

You take both of Lilith’s hands, and gaze into her eyes, determination lighting a fire behind them. She looks like she’s going to well up, but at least she’s not looking at Camilla.

Oh gods you can hear Camilla approaching. The humiliation train. It is charging, so you don’t have much time. Because it’s a humiliation wagon train, not really a train -- point is, public transportation in Nohr is something like the seventieth line item on the budget; Leo rants about it a lot.

“Lilith,” you say after a deep breath. “I know you’re not coming with me, but I will miss you as much as I’ll miss Flora, and Jakob, and Felicia…”

“But Felicia is going with you,” Lilith murmurs.

“Right, right. Still, Lilith, you will always be in my heart because since the beginning--”

“Awww, Corrin, darling,” Camilla coos. It cuts you like a knife, but it cuts your intended speech to pieces like a sweep of Camilla’s axe. “You truly are kind to absolutely everyone, even when it shouldn’t concern you.” She turns to Lilith. You catch a sinister glint in her eyes. “Were you ever told the bird story, Lilith?”

Oh no. Not the bird story. You always feel like your generosity towards small animals has to be pointed out. Your skin crawls, and clearly so is Lilith’s but you can’t quite guess why. Maybe it’s the look Camilla is giving her. When you glance back at Camilla, you feel Lilith slipping something into your pocket. But you have no time to examine it.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Except Camilla tells this story to _everyone_ who talks about Corrin’s kindness. “Corrin once found a baby bird when she was younger. The poor thing had fallen from its nest, destined to die a slow death. But Corrin here…” You feel Camilla ruffle through your hair. You know it’s affection but with this story your spine is now crawling. Those gauntleted fingers might as well be spiders biting on your back. “...Oh, darling Corrin took that bird in and took care of it herself until it could fly.” That look in Camilla’s eyes -- the one she’d given to anyone who so much as looked at you funny -- melts away into a smile. “And that, Lilith, is why you’re sad to see her go?”

 

>CAMILLA: Be a dick to Corrin

 

You can’t be Camilla, and you’re pretty sure she’s already doing that. Or, barring a dick, just embarrassing. But one day, you’ll get your revenge … you’ve had your revenge on her before, but she has a habit of shrugging of your attempts at embarrassing her. It’s like your elder sister is made of and just breathes embarassment.

Instead, she sweeps you away from Lilith with the least subtle arm over your shoulder. Before you can yank yourself to continue your speech, you catch one last look at Lilith.

She waves goodbye. She’s smiling again, even though she sees the mortification on your face. That is before Camilla shoves you into her chest for a moment. By the time you pry yourself from her grasp you think you’ve gotten just a little bit blue. It’s rather hard to breathe there. You turn to face your siblings, Felicia, and Gunter. They have prepared the caravan … of one wagon.

Elise seems particularly excited.

 

>CORRIN: Travel Montage! Travel Montage!

 

What is this, a script? We don’t work in montage here. You had studied that theory of theatre with Leo before, and the two of you argued just how long you could stand to pile together associated thoughts and ideas in a single scene, and how that could be executed. Leo’s tastes border on the eccentric in that regard, as he had pointed towards obscure plays from far away lands that managed to run together whole plot lines in parallel as if by some kind of play-by-ear mosaic.

You were more a fan of what he would have consider “trashier” montage -- simple scene-to-scene transitions that seem much harder to do on stage, if Leo’s words on the matter are any indication.

The caravan, however, is now on its way to Windham. It’s a winding road already, and you have _three days_ to cover. You figure you might as well get something productive out of the way. You lean out. Of course, Xander rides ahead, though you can see that he's talking to Gunter about something. They both look rather grave about it, but maybe that's because the word “Hoshido” was uttered. You swear, aside from Leo and Elise everyone treats that word like it’s cursed.

Camilla is somewhere skyward. You wonder what goes through her head up in the sky.

Elise looks like she's struggling with her reins, but every time she “gets” it, her horse charges forward like it's being ridden into battle. It's something that makes Xander chuckle, even in the middle of grave strategery.

Leo is riding alongside the cart, though. He's within talking distance, but he seems a little out of it. He hasn't been listening to Xander and Gunter discuss strategy, but at least his collar is on right this time.

 

>CORRIN: Speaking of Leo, why not ask him about Father?

 

“Leo,” you call. He perks up and rides a little closer to the cart. “Leo, what is father like?” You ask him.

He avoids your gaze for a moment. “He… Is a just ruler,” he says. “Although he isn't often the happiest of them.”

You raise an eyebrow. You're more concentrating on trying not to lose your balance on the cart. “Happiest?”

“Sorry, that isn't exactly accurate. He is a precise man, and he will judge your words as harshly as he measures his own.”

You nod. No wonder Leo is such a logical person, and no wonder Camilla talks about him too often. You wonder if that occurred to Elise at all. Xander seems frustrated at the subject more often than not, but never out of some kind of retribution from the king, you think.

You feel your pocket vibrating.

 

>CORRIN: Wha??

 

You scramble back into the cart and fish through your pockets until you pull out a TINY PEARL ON A CHAIN. It’s shining, and vibrating in your hand. It projects a soft blue light. You run your hand through it, only to notice that it is starting to project AN INTERFACE that allows you to type, and send messages.

 

>CORRIN: Examine interface.

 

It reads INTYS-BRAND PESTERCHUM. You notice a CHUM LIST in one column of the display, and a TROLLSLUM in the other. The TROLLSLUM is currently empty, while the CHUM LIST has four entries: the topmost is OpraticSage followed by, from top to bottom, TsunderRage, MercurialMaster, WildRoses, TrueHero, HeroKing, TableTurner, and OnceandFutureQueen. You find that one of these—OpraticSage—is blinking, with an icon that indicates an incoming message, you think.

 

>CORRIN: Reply to OpraticSage

 

You poke at the icon. You get an error message: ENTER PESTERCHUM ACCOUNT NAME

 

>CORRIN: Enter name

 

Wait didn't we do this before? What do you mean this is different? Oh. This is a quirky system of communication between people you may not be aware of by name yet? Okay. Alright. We’ll play this little cat-and-mouse bait-and-switch game. You type in an account name you think fits you:

UmbralLumination. Yes. This will do nicely.

 

>CORRIN: Respond to OpraticSage, for reals this time.

 

You poke the name on your interface, and this time do not receive the same error message. Instead you open up a CHAT LOG, well, labeled PESTERLOG, and begin typing your reply. Your conversation, in fact, that more than likely takes up the entire trip to Windham.

 

==PESTERLOG==

\------------------------OpraticSage began pestering UmbralLumination at 15:10---------------------------

OS: Hello, hello. This is strange: it never occurred to me that new chums could be forced upon us. It never happened until this one. Who are you?

UL: yeah hi

OS: It takes awhile to get used to this format, I know. If it makes you feel any better, this is far different from the sheet music I normally write.

UL: oh so you just wanted to say hi then. but i dont know how i got a hold of this thing

OS: Such is the twisting paths of destiny, my friend.

UL: okay okay so uh great i didnt answer your question. my name is [REDACTED]

OS: I forgot to mention that if you directly reference your name without having seen someone face to face, the program seems to expunge the explicit mention of that name. You’ll have to play a game of twenty questions. Have you done that before?

UL: not really. i kind of grew up alone in a tower so i knew everyone around me well enough already

OS: I see. The game is this: we ask questions about you until we either get a good enough set of answers to make an educated guess about our identities, or we ask twenty questions, whichever goal is reached first. Now, the problem is that I won't be able to type your name.

UL: this is really weird

OS: I'm sorry. Am I probing a little too deeply already?

UL: uh no not at all its just that youre the first stranger ive met outside of the northern fortress

OS: That answers my first two questions by itself. Third question: are you a boy or a girl?

UL: well im a princess

OS: That answers another two questions. You have a habit of doing that. You’re very trusting.

UL: i dont see why i shouldnt be.

OS: I see. Fifth question: do you have the Blood of the First Dragons within you?

UL: [REDACTED] mentions it a lot

UL: what really? it redacts those names too?!

OS: There is a force that I cannot quite discern. There are others whom I have talked to who mention that there is a kind of censor running within the program that purges mentions of anyone who is neither a mutual acquaintance nor a ‘Pesterchum account name.’ The process of investigating these problems is … strenuous to say the least, given the current set of people who use this. I think you’ll see why if you speak to the others.

OS: I have had quite some time to study this program. I know that it is rhythmless and tinny. I _would_ sing to you with this, but it would seem to be impossible by virtue of a lack of recording functionality.

UL: so this isnt magic?

OS: Oh! I almost forgot that you haven’t been asking questions about me!

UL: oh yeah! I think Im getting the hang of how to properly type with this thing now, too. But I’ll answer your fifth question first: I think I have it. Its weird though. My ears have these points to them that no one else has.

OS: That is remarkable, isn’t it?

UL: Can you tell me what the Blood of the First Dragons is?

OS: I cannot say for certain. I have sang about it before, at the behest of [REDACTED], but I have a feeling that the only things I know of it are that it is quite repressed in the royal bloodlines.

OS: Both of them.

UL: What do you mean both?

OS: Do you have siblings?”

UL: Yeah. Two brothers, two sisters, why?

OS: Hm. I see. And who are your parents?

UL: I only have a father. I havent met him, but Im going to meet him today.

UL: Im kind of nervous.

UL: What do I even say to him?

UL: [REDACTED] tells me hes kind of a harsh guy, and I hear he doesnt even have a sense of humor.

OS: I see.

OS: I’m afraid we will have to cut our game a little short right now. I have something to attend to. I will return to this when I can.

OS: Listen carefully. I must give you the following warning:

OS: Do not lose yourself to your own blood. What lies within the First Dragon is a beast that cannot be easily contained. Not from where you are standing. Your power is a potent one, and should not be used as a first resort.

\----------------------------------OperaticSage has Signed Out---------------------------------------

 

OperaticSage's name goes completely dim. You notice another name blinking. This one is TsunderRage. Before you open the log up, you notice that MercurialMaster is also blinking.

 

>Corrin: Answer TsunderRage

 

=PESTERLOG=

\-------------------TsunderRage began pestering UmbralLumination at 15:58-------------------------------

TR: OH MY FUCKING GODS

TR: DID LILITH FUCKING ERASE HER DATA AND GIVE HER INTSYSLINK TO SOME OTHER CHUMP

TR: I SWEAR TO THE GODS THAT I HAVE THE WORST WORDS TO GIVE HER AS SOON AS I CAN MANAGE

TR: OH BUT OF COURSE NOT, I HAVE CAMILLA LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER CONSTANTLY, SO I CANT WALK UP TO LILITH AND ACT ALL NATURAL:

TR: “OH, HELLO, MISS FISH PEASANT, I HAVE SOME VERY CHOICE FORMS OF ANGER FOR YOU TO SAMPLE. FRESH FROM THE [REDACTED] BAKERY.”

TR: “ITS FUCKING DELICIOUS. IT TASTES LIKE SALT AND MAYBE JUST A DASH OF SUGAR.”

TR: “OH, YOU MEAN ITS TOO SALTY? WELL OF COURSE IT IS BECAUSE THIS IS A FUCKUP THAT WILL RING THROUGHOUT THE AGES. NOHR, HOSHIDO, THE OUTREALMS? THEY WILL ALL QUAKE IN FEAR OF THIS ABORTION OF A FUCKUP, SO IT NEEDS ALL THE SALT IT CAN GET.”

TR: OKAY, THIS IS REALLY ANNOYING. MY OWN NAME IS REDACTED, BUT LILITH’S AND CAMILLAS ARENT

TR: WHO IN THE TAPDANCING FALLACY OF A PANTHEON ARE YOU

UL: You know I dont think I can answer that without it being ‘redacted’ either.

TR: BUT YOU KNOW CAMILLA. AND I KNOW CAMILLA. GODS THAT IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING.

UL: You dont have to yell all the time.

TR: MY KEYBOARD IS BROKEN, SO GET OFF MY FUCKING BACK ABOUT THAT

UL: Key...board?

TR: GREAT

TR: THIS IS JUST FAN-SUPER-FUCKTASTIC. LILITH GAVE IT TO SOMEONE WHO’S TECHNOLOGICALLY ILLITERATE TOO! ITS LIKE THAT OTHER LOUT WHO THINKS ITS A GODSDAMNED ANNOUNCEMENT BOARD.

TR: THERE HE GOES AGAIN: ‘HAD LUNCH WITH [REDACTED], HE’S CUTE WHEN HES FRUSTRATED ABOUT CALORIES.” WHAT A FUCKING DRAMA QUEEN.

TR: I KNOW YOU CANT SEE THAT, BUT ITS BETTER THAT YOU DONT

TR: SO IF YOU GET A MESSAGE FROM TRUEHERO, YOU CAN SAFELY IGNORE IT BECAUSE BY THE GODS HES LIKE ON PERMANENT VACATION UP IN THE BRAINS DEPARTMENT.

TR: OKAY, BREATHE DEEP. YOU GOT THIS.

UL: Yeah, please. Take a deep breath.

TR: HEY

TR: DONT GET SNAPPY WITH ME. IVE NARROWED DOWN MY LIST OF PARANOID ANSWERS.

TR: AND THIS IS ACTUALLY SOMEONE CAMILLA KNOWS QUITE WELL.

TR: IS THAT YOU, LEO? IS THE JIG SO FUCKING UP THAT I HAVE TO RAISE MY HANDS TO THE SKY SO AS NOT TO BE OBLITERATED BY YOUR WEIRD TREE MAGIC?

TR: SERIOUSLY, WHAT IS EVEN THAT?

TR: DO YOU JUST LIKE, GO THE EXACT OPPOSITE WAY OF MOST NOHRIAN MAGES, BECAUSE YOUR OWN RETAINER [REDACTED] HAS TOLD ME THAT YOU BREAK ALL THE RULES.

UL: No.

TR: FUCK. THERE GOES MY HYPOTHESIS, AND MY TREASON RIGHT IN THE FUCKING AIR. RIGHT OUT THE WINDOW WITH THE BABY, THE BATHWATER, AND THE CRIB. ALRIGHT. HYPOTHESIS NUMBER TWO: YOU’RE ACTUALLY CAMILLA AND YOU’RE PULLING A PRANK ON YOUR RETAINERS, AND YOU'LL SHOW THIS TO, I DONT KNOW, ELISE OR XANDER AND YOU'LL GIGGLE ABOUT IT OVER THAT CRAPPY CHAMOMILE TEA THAT [REDACTED] LIKES TO MAKE FOR XANDER.

UL: No. Camilla is in the sky right now.

TR: SHE IS?! WHERE IS SHE GOING?

UL: Windham. With me.

TR: OH GODS OH GODS OH GODS I REALLY DROPPED THE BALL ON THIS ONE. DON’T THINK THIS IS OVER, GODSDAMNIT. ILL BE BACK TO GIVE YOU A VERBAL THRASHING AGAIN. JUST YOU WAIT.

UL: Okay. I think I get this. You and OS know each other, but you’re actually one of Camilla’s retainers. Except I don’t think I know them by name. All I remember is that one has blue hair, and the other has red hair.

TR: OS KNOWS ME ALRIGHT

TR: BUT SHE DOESN'T KNOW ME

TR: ITS REALLY HARD TO EXPOSIT THIS STUFF WHEN YOU'RE SURE THERE'S A NITWIT ON THE OTHER END OF THE LINE

UL: That's not very nice! But I still think I know who you are.

TR: OKAY, FLIP YOUR COIN AND GUESS GENIUS.

UL: You’re the red-haired one.

TR: WHAT?! HOW IN THE FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

UL: The blue-haired one never talks, and the red-haired one … uh, well, she never talks too much either but I kind of had a hunch from the few times that she did.

TR: OKAY, FUCK YOUR HUNCH, TOODLE-DO TO YOU, AND GOOD LUCK ON YOUR WINDHAM VISIT. YOULL NEED IT.

\--------------------------------TsunderRage stopped Pestering UmbralLumination---------------------------

 

>Corrin: Answer MercurialMaster

 

\------------------------MercurialMaster began pestering UmbralLumination at 15:58----------------------

MM: Lo! What is this! A new challenger approaches onto the fields of Pesterchum. But may they be friend or foe?

MM: But of course, only a friend wouldn’t rise to a challenge at being called a foe from the outset. There is but one solution to this conundrum I know.

MM: Greetings, my new friend.

MM: Or perhaps not. It seems preoccupation shadow strikes once again towards the newcomer. Yet I cannot watch her duel -- for such a duel is one-sided, where I can only spectate from here, behind the veil of time and space.

UL: Oh. Hello. You sound a lot more pleasant than TR.

MM: Ahh, yes. She of uncommon boiling temperament, the harbinger of all things spice, and sugar, but far from everything nice.

MM: I shall grace you with many an apology on her behalf.

MM: For you see she is not the best handler of strangers. Especially those who sweep in so suddenly, like a dark stranger on a lonely road, within the shoes of a former associate, a comrade in mind and words if not arms.

MM: But there is something different about you. I can feel it within my aching blood. You are someone whom Lilith trusted greatly, if you now are in possession of her communication spell.

UL: But I was told this wasn’t magic.

MM: Hey. Hey c’mon. You’re ruining the mystique of it. The mojo, the mystery, the intrigue.

UL: okay…?

MM: Ahem. Anyway.

MM: I only wish you luck in a far better manner than she: good luck, stranger. I heard just now, from the shrill shrieks over my shoulder, that you are coming to Windham. May I inquire for what?

UL: A visit to King Garon, actually. I think I know _of_ you. Leo talks a lot about a guy who sort of sounds like you.

MM: My aching blood has begun to boil at the sight that you know of my leige! This legendary sage must mask his further statements as to hide his identity.

UL: Oh….kay. I wasn’t going to guess. Anyway.

UL: Can I ask about how to best handle it?

MM: Ahh, asking questions to a stranger in the ether, a favorite past-time of the naive and trusting. You must have quite a path ahead of you indeed. So here is my advice for you:

MM: As the temporary sage in your journey, the bequeather of gifts, the dispensary of advice to cross the threshold.

UL: Okay, what is it?

MM: King Garon is kind of scary, and maybe a little bit insane. Don’t tell Leo I said that, please.

MM: I’d just be careful, okay?

UL: Thank you.

MM: Now, I have much more in the way of aiding this new legendary hero in her epic destiny … to

MM: uh

MM: I’ll get back to you on that.

MM: Bye. I guess.  
\-----------------------------MercurialMaster stopped pestering UmbralLumination---------------------------

 

>Corrin: Look back over your shoulder.

 

“What’chya doing?”

It’s Elise. She has been looking over your shoulder for the past few minutes. You scramble to your feet. You don’t answer her, instead just catching your breath at her surprising you. You don’t know how long she has been looking over your shoulder.

“We’re here,” she beams. She grabs you by the arm and starts to pull you out of the cart.

 

>Corrin: BEHOLD Windham Castle

 

And what a sight to behold it is. It’s a castle that makes a veritable venn diagram out of its own walls -- three circles, each on successively lower-elevated levels. You don’t get a lot of time to admire the city as a whole, as the main roads are empty and misty. There’s a constant marine layer from the nearby ocean to the Northeast, but that doesn’t bother you so much as the increasing LACK OF GUARD RAILS. You abandon your cart once you reach the keep, the central, downward-spiralling complex of garrisons named CASTLE KRAKENBERG. You slow your pace to take in the sight of the drill-shaped central keep, though this means you are lagging behind your siblings.

Elise in particular seems bounding and bubbling with excitement. She jumps up and down as she waves at you to follow her. The INTSYS LINK is still vibrating, but you feel like you can’t answer it out in the open.

The final set of gates opens you up to an entrance hall. Inside, its square structure surrounds a central chamber filled with DEBRIS. You feel something tingling within you, especially as you see a BRIGHT PATCH OF GROUND in front of it. You don’t have too much time to think on it -- to the north, on the short staircase leading further into the castle, stands your FATHER.

 

>CORRIN: Here comes King Garon

 

KING GARON stands about as tall as maybe three of you. That might just be your fear making him loom larger, or the stairs, but his sickly skin wrinkles into too many folds for you to think of him as a particularly scary man. There’s something else intimidating you, though, the way his deep-set eyes gaze down at you. The way his scowl meets you already makes your heart sink. You think you can see little flakes of blood on his armor, long dried and practically used to paint his armor a shade of glistening onyx. A long white beard hangs from his chin, a striking gray streak running from the crest of his chin to the bottom of his beard.

You realize he’s not as tall as he seems when Xander approaches him, brushing past you like a man on a mission.

“Father,” he says. “We have good tidings. Corrin’s training is complete.”

“So I see,” King Garon says. He scoffs when he gets another good look at you. He meets your eyes; his shade of yellow is inhuman. For a moment, you think you see lizard-like pupils. “Does she indeed have the Blood of the First Dragons?”

“I can attest that she does,” Xander answers. He gives you a knowing look. You expect that your nerves would freeze you in place, but his nod at you gives you the courage to approach and bow to your father. “In fact, she rivals my own prowess, father.”

That makes your stomach drop. _Damnit, Xander_ , you think to yourself.

“Um, yes,” you say, more stiffly than you like. “I can definitely use dragon veins.”

Xander’s smile disappears. He looks to Garon, then back to you. You can’t see him sweat, but you just know that he’s worried. To be perfectly fair, he didn’t coach you to keep your mouth shut in front of the king earlier. You hear Leo facepalm -- you hear it, because he isn’t quite as subtle about it as he likes to think he is.

“And uh,” you continue. “I have been trained in the use of the sword for every night of my life since I could walk.”

 

Garon nods.

 

“Very well,” he says. His voice booms throughout the room. “As a new member of the Nohrian Royal Family, you shall be bequeathed with a sword worthy of your name.”

 

>CORRIN: Receive Sword

 

As if from the ether, a bubbling, whirling pool of some kind of ELDRICH POWER corrodes the floor before King Garon’s feet. A SWORD that, unlike Xander’s Siegfried, is most definitely, positively, undeniably made of PURE FUCKING EVIL emerges from the ground. The pommel of this sword has an eye-like gem that blinks and shifts with twitchy movements. Xander already gazes at it suspiciously, but you notice that the others aren’t so quick to judge it.

“This is Ganglari, and it shall be yours to wield into battle, Corrin,” King Garon says. “It is my gift to you, my daughter.”

“A generous gift indeed,” Xander mutters.

When you grasp its handle, you feel a sensation far different from that of wielding a sword normally -- the blade seems to guide you to lift it high. Upon inspecting the blade closer, you notice that there’s a violet light emerging from rocky, craggy cracks lining the flat surface of the curved blade. You think you hear a STRANGE WHISPERING in the back of your head as well, but dismiss it out of hand.

“Thank you, father,” you say. You really have nothing else to say -- how else do you thank the old man for giving you this sword bigger longer than your leg and caked over with burning dirt with the strange eye on its pommel?

 

>CORRIN: Gaze into the eye

 

You try. Oh you try. It never meets your gaze. It always seems to look _past_ you.

 

>CORRIN: Consult Felicia and Gunter.

 

Gunter regards the blade for a moment. He scowls when he sees the eye on its pommel, and stiffens. “I would be careful. This is not unlike the blade Xander wields,” he says. “It may reject its wielder on a whim.”

“A blade, rejecting its owner? That can’t exactly be right.”

“Mind you, in order to properly wield Siegfried, Xander had to travel far and wide.”

Felicia shrugs. She sighs. “I wish I could be of more help about this,” she mutters. “But I believe you’ll know how to tame it. I mean, not that a sword could be a wild animal at all. Hah!”

King Garon interrupts your little huddle with a command to a nearby guard. You hear multiple sets of footsteps, and the clanking of chains.

“You may have noticed, princess Corrin,” Garon says. “That this room has a small layer of sand on its tiles.” That is something you haven’t noticed, but you nod as if you were listening the whole time. “Castle Krakenburg used to be an arena. In the days of our ancestors, we had no choice but to fight for our right to survive. And so, I offer you the same trial. If Xander has taught you well, you should be able to pass this simple test with ease.” He smirks as he continues. “Your final trial is one that I have been meaning to give some Hoshidan lice as well.”

“Did...did he just refer to actual people as lice?” you ask in a small voice. Garon doesn't really answer you. You think he didn't hear him, but before you try to ask it again, you look to the others.

Camilla certainly doesn’t have an answer. Her face is as stone.

Elise seems excited for something else entirely. This unnerves you.

Leo doesn’t answer either. His eyes are fixed on the hallway the guard ran down -- where the footsteps are getting louder.

Xander’s expression is similarly hardened. He is still gazing at your sword. He mutters something you can’t quite make out.

“It is a matter of a worn-on conflict, my lady,” Gunter answers. “It is something you’ll have to learn too in combat.”

 

>CORRIN: Meet actual Hoshidans for the first time in your life

 

The people who emerge from the dungeon, still in irons are a GAGGLE OF HOSHIDANS. You can tell from the garb they wear -- at least, you think you can. Part of Gunter’s schooling on tactics, the one part you didn’t exactly fall asleep in, was about Hoshidan uniforms -- red on white or blue on white, depending on a couple of factors you don’t quite remember. They tended to favor clothes that breathed a bit more. And as far as you can tell, all of these ones were given stolen weapons from Hoshido. That includes the TWO PEOPLE WHO STAND OUT FROM THE CROWD.

The first of these is a woman who is highly musclebound, blonde, and russet-skinned. She wears a LACQUERED MASK, lifted up over her head like a headband at the moment. The guards give her a club before unclasping her chains. The second is a lankier man dressed in looser, green clothing, including a RATHER CONSPICUOUS SCARF, and socks with sandals. You wonder if he’s actually comfortable with that.

The man in green winces when he makes eye contact with you. He has a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, but you can’t return the gesture. The woman next to him seems just as baffled.

You draw Ganglari, SWORD OF PURE FUCKING EVIL, and brandish it at him. You don’t know why your arm is shaking.

 

>THIS IS FEAR

 

It is fear. Isn’t it? But you find your fear fighting another voice that has wormed its way into you.

 

>NEVER FEAR

>YOU MUSTN’T RUN AWAY

>YOU MUSTN’T RUN AWAY

 

“I am Suzukaze of Hoshido. I will test your strength,” the man in green says. “Princess Corrin, do not hold back.”

“Of course she won’t, fool louse,” King Garon says. “By the end of this test, both your head, and the Fire Tribe chieftain’s daughter’s will be on my desk in good time.” He looks down at you, his expression hardening. “That is, if Corrin is not going to hesitate any longer.”

 

>CORRIN: There’s a dragon vein in the back of the room. Use it!

 

You aren’t entirely sure about how to use dragon veins, but the fact that you caught sight of this one is a step in the right direction. You rush back towards it. Garon seems perplexed at this move at first, but his shrug saves you from being sent to the chopping block prematurely.

You think, anyway. He doesn’t actually have a chopping block on you. By the time you have made it to the Dragon Vein, you notice that Gunther and Felicia have joined you.

“Alright,” Felicia says, taking in a deep breath, and psyching herself up with shadow punches, shadow dagger-thrusts. She’s a little stiff at those. “Alright. I’m here to assist you, as always, Corrin. Just um, give the word.”

Gunther gives you a similar affirmation. “These Hoshidans will fall before my lance if I do so much as breathe upon them. I am at your disposal, my lady.” He brandishes … the SADDEST LANCE YOU HAVE EVER SEEN to demonstrate that point. Seriously. You couldn’t have seen a more bronze-colored PIECE OF SHIT pike if you picked one off the ground on the road to Windham. You suspect that this is what Gunter did. At least you're sure Felicia is capable of throwing her knives at her foes.

You also suddenly doubt all of the advice Gunter has ever given you up until this point.

 

>OF COURSE YOU ARE DOOMED. DEPEND ON ME, AND YOU WILL SURVIVE.

 

What is even doing that? You look down at Ganglari, but there is no way in whatever hell is out there that a sword can talk. That would just be silly.

Instead, you notice the Hoshidan soldiers accompanying the Flame Tribe chieftain’s daughter charging towards you, on the left side of the debris-filled chamber. On your right, Suzukaze’s troops are doing the same.

You kneel before the dragon vein. Its power flows through you, and emerges with your breath. Your body bursts with its power, evaporating the debris within the chamber, leaving in its place an empty room with three doors and a patch of ground that is lit up with misty, luminous vapors.

“That… that’s the stuff that’s in staff heads,” Felicia says. It finally dawns on her what you just did. “That’s amazing, Corrin!”

You catch King Garon raising an eyebrow. He almost cracks a smile. Almost. Now you have a chance to act.

 

>CORRIN: Turtle up in the central chamber, choke the point.

>GUNTER: Choke the point.

>Felicia: Uh… awe at Corrin’s combat prowess? Wait! No! Heal! Heal! And maybe throw a knife at someone!

 

The three of you pile into the central chamber. Gunter takes the right door -- the east door. You take the west door, the left one. Felicia files in behind you, having pulled a HEALING STAFF out of a pocket somewhere on her maid uniform. Seriously, how many pockets do she and Jakob have? You can’t even see, because you’re a bit preoccupied.

The Flame Tribe chieftain’s daughter barrels at you, a Hoshidan soldier following. She screams a battlecry as she leaps at you, club reared back. You feel your arm rise to parry the attack. You catch the club on Ganglari’s blade, but fail to notice the other attack—a thrust from the other soldier.

Except you don't feel the sharp pain of a katana driving its way into you because a thrown knife from Felicia does the job for you. You shove off of your oni-mask-wearing foe. Another Hoshidan piles in behind her.

 

>CORRIN: How is Gunter doing?

 

You notice that the guy who called himself Suzukaze has been plinking away harmlessly at him with shurikens. You also notice that there are two DECIDEDLY DEAD Hoshidans at Gunter’s feet. Both of them had been skewered by his lance, judging by the fact that one has a giant hole through his chest, and the other is bleeding out from his gut right now.

In fact, after another shuriken plinks off of him, you see him filing his nails. His nails that are in fact underneath gauntlets.

You kind of wish you saw this side of Gunter a bit more. The old man gives not a single fuck.

 

>CORRIN: Tell Gunter not to kill anyone with a name or a memorable face.

 

It is a good thing we’re metagaming here, otherwise this would be a bloodbath. Then again, you’re also surprised that Felicia hasn’t fainted from giving that other Hoshidan a knife, blade-first, between the eyes. You try not to look.

 

>CORRIN: Have a nervous breakdown from the violence.

>NO. FIGHT ON, DAMN YOU. THE BLADE DEMANDS IT.

 

You’ll have that in time. Right now, though? You find yourself in a swordfight against two people again. You are a bit quicker to parry the other Hoshidan’s blows, and dance around the flame tribeswoman’s attacks now that you’ve gotten used to the flow of combat a bit more. It helps that you’re breathing in the healing mist inside the chamber -- it fills your lungs as if you had not been tiring with every parry, with every duck and weave.

 

>CORRIN: Strife

 

Okay, now it’s a proper strife -- you and Felicia versus flame tribe person who didn’t introduce herself (rude) and generic Hoshidan guy. You square off. The flame tribeswoman takes the initiative to strike at you. Your own counterattack misses, and you take the club swing STRAIGHT TO THE FACE. You tumble backwards, into Felicia. She manages to catch you without falling backwards for once, though her awkward, planted stance causes her to shake against your weight.

The generic Hoshidan follows up, lunging at you. You lean back, just barely missing being stabbed in the chin. You do what any rational human being would do…

 

>CORRIN: Take a bite outta crime.

 

Or in this case, just the sword. Wait WHAT?!

You bite down on the tip of the Hoshidan’s katana, and high-kick the flat of that blade. It snaps right in half, giving Felicia the opening necessary to throw another knife. Unfortunately, this one was a butter knife, so instead of piercing him right inbetween the eyes he’s instead clutching his side, more humiliated than dying. Either way, he’s dispatched.

You square off again. You’re still hearing Kaze plink away at Gunter. Kaze is in fact, sounding just a little frustrated at this development, going by how furiously he’s throwing those shurikens.

 

>GUNTER: Finish him!

 

Well, in this case, just defeat. Except, Gunter just broke his lance on the other Hoshidan, he realizes. It was made out of crappy bronze anyway. He doesn’t quite have a spare blade…

 

>CORRIN: Give Gunter something, anything! He really needs a weapon!

 

You give him your copy of _The Room_.

 

>GUNTER: Throw the book at Kaze.

 

The sound of a THWACK rings across the arena. Garon’s expression matches that of the most confused person in the world. Kaze collapses, the wind knocked out of him by a projectile book. Its cover, a picture of a thick-browed, messy-haired NEANDERTHAL OF A MAN, is facing ceilingward.

 

>Corrin: Finish this

 

You raise Ganglari. The sword shakes violently as you swing it. You swear you hear a bloodcurdling scream sail through the air in its arc. Yep. Blade of Pure Evil, just like your brother’s. You think for a moment that Xander would be proud, until you catch sight of him as Ganglari falls. You end up checking your blow without thinking about it; something doesn’t feel right about the way it tries to guide your hand. And something feels far less right about the way Xander is watching you -- he seems

You leave the flame tribeswoman alive with a mortal wound. Your breath finally catches up with you as the adrenaline dies down.

You hear an applause from your father. He steps into the arena with methodical steps. He chuckles a low chuckle.

“Well done, well done, my daughter,” he says. “Now, surely you’ll do the honor of finishing them off…”

Your heart pounds in your chest. The sound becomes so loud as to overpower your ears, your thoughts. Your father’s words register to you, but your sense does not as you look up at him.

“I...I cannot,” you manage. Your words sail through the entire chamber. You see Xander’s eyes narrow at you. You see Leo cringe. Elise gasps as loud as she usually does, while Camilla resigns herself, her shoulders sinking. “I’ve already defeated them. There’s no way they can fight back.”

Garon approaches you closer. His fists clench, and each of his steps pound against the floor louder than your own heartbeat.

“Resistance to our might must be crushed,” he says. “You see, naive child, a rebellion is like a weed. If you do not pull it out by the root, it will continue to grow, and it will grow stronger, and stronger. You would do well to obey me, and slay these two _now_.”

“Father!” Xander cries. “Corrin doesn’t understand the gravity of the conflict--”

“Whether she does or not, she has disobeyed a direct order, Xander,” Garon booms. “Now, Corrin... _do it_.” He barks at you.

You feel your hand grasp around Ganglari’s handle. It grips it tighter than you thought you were doing earlier.

“DO IT,” Garon roars in your face.

You raise it, but stop yourself. You find yourself resisting against the blade itself.

“If you do not,” Garon says. “I must have Xander slay you. What a waste that is.”

Xander exchanges a look with Leo, and then with Garon. He hesitates himself. “Please, Corrin,” he says. “Obey father, and we won’t have to do this the hard way.”

You shake your head. You stammer something out, but your words get caught so far in your throat that they come out in a simper instead.

“What was that? Were you about to defy me again?” Garon asks. He turns around, and makes his way back up the steps. When he reaches the top, he turns around. “Xander, kill her.”

Xander hesitates, but draws SIEGFRIED. He swallows and approaches you. He takes a swing at you. You barely parry him in time, but feel your stance buckle under the blow. He puts on the pressure, until you’re forced to your knees. This is far different from when he would spar with you -- with Siegfried, he feels as if he has even more strength than he had before.

The pounding sensation returns -- first, to your blood vessels, then to your ears. You hear the muffled noise of Elise screaming for you two to stop fighting. You catch out of the corner of your eye Leo casting a spell.

When he finishes, a string of arcane light surrounds him, and a similar circle lights the ground at the feet of the Hoshidans. They are tossed aside by the force of what looks like branching, tree-like bolts of ; if they were conscious moments ago, they surely aren’t any longer. Xander stops his assault, his blade stopping just short of striking you. Leo is wearing the smuggest smile you have seen him with in awhile.

“Father, I have done both Corrin and Xander the favor of dispatching this Hoshidan rabble,” he says. “Perhaps this would be a good time to forgive dearest sister’s naivete for this one instance?”

Garon narrows his eyes at Leo for a moment. He sighs, and turns his back, to head out of the chamber and into the castle proper. “Very well. Do as you please. But know this: no disobedience will be tolerated.”

As he leaves, you see all of your siblings, Gunter, and Felicia sigh in relief. You feel tears welling up, but find yourself trying to swallow them.

 

>CORRIN: Have nervous breakdown

 

You sink to your knees, taking in deep breaths. Everything seems to happen in a blurr. Felicia is immediately at your side, checking for a fever, and giving you doses of her HEALING STAFF. Elise and Camilla are quick to follow suit. When you meet Xander’s gaze, he looks away, a little sullen. It breaks your heart to watch him sheathe Siegfried as if he hadn’t almost plunged it through your skull earlier.

The voice of Ganglari is oddly silent here. It worries you. You try to speak of it, but your words catch in your throat again. The moment you choke out that noise, you feel Camilla pull you into a tight embrace, while Elise bearhugs you from the other side.

“Sshhh…” she whispers. “

A guard approaches Xander. “My lord,” the guard says. “What should I do with the bodies?”

“Take them to my quarters,” Xander says. “So that I may inspect their belongings.” The guard salutes him. The guard gets another one to carry the bodies of the fallen Hoshidans up to Xander’s quarters.

Leo approaches you, chuckling.

“You needn’t worry, sister,” he says, in that smug tone that isn’t helping in the slightest. “I only cast that spell with enough power to blast them out of consciousness.”

Your tears almost dry in an instant. Xander approaches you and grasps you by the hand, pulling you to your feet. You’re still shaking when he glares at you.

“What did you think you were doing?” he demands. “Resisting father so openly like that is a death sentence. Had it been any of us, we would have our heads on spikes by now.”

“Big brother,” Elise pleads. “She didn’t know about that! Besides, she would have tried to do so even if she knew.”

“That doesn’t change a thing,” Camilla says. “For sure, he’s going to hold a grudge. He always does.”

“So?” Elise says. “We can just apologize to him later! I’ll even vouch for her.”

The other siblings exchange looks with each other. You get the distinct feeling that apologizing is an awful idea. This is despite the confident grin Elise is wearing -- the one that just tells you she’s ignoring everyone else’s advice, the same way she always does.

Yet, the alternative doesn’t sound much better. That is, to continue as if you hadn’t defied King Garon in the first place.

Do you:

>Apologize to King Garon later with Elise?

Or

>Try to pretend this never happened, and try to find a peaceful life in your new home?

 

To be continued, after contributions from readers like you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VOTING -- Felicia or Jakob?  
> Felicia -- 4  
> Jakob -- 1
> 
> This first round of voting was a little bit unusual in that I kind of already had a large portion of the chapter written before posting it. From this one onward, I will wait about 4-5 days for comments and messages to tally the votes.  
> Another thing I should mention is that aside from voting, you may also send me suggestions for actions in the format of  
> >[Character who has been recruited]: Do the Thing  
> I may not be able to integrate everything, but I'll see what I can do. I will do my best to integrate reader feedback in terms of the story's direction and content. You may even vote for options to end-of-chapter votes that don't even exist; and if they're zany/creative/just plain weird enough I'll consider them.


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